Going For Broke

by Nina Howard

  “Pasta? Really? I can’t remember the last time I had a plate of pasta. Maybe living life in the boonies is worth it if you can eat what you want,” Andrea said, not meaning a word of it. She would never dream of living anywhere but coastal.

  “Andi, we’re at a two star Michelin restaurant with a James Beard-award winning chef. This is hardly the boonies.” Victoria felt defensive about her reclaimed hometown. Besides, after spending so much time in the suburbs, downtown Chicago felt glamorous and exotic. She leaned into the table to get down to business. “So, is it true about you and a certain co-star?”

  Andrea sat up, surprised that Victoria even knew to ask such a question. “Where did you hear that?”

  “I saw it on TMZ,” she answered proudly. With her newfound love of trash television, Victoria was able to pick up the story that Andrea had reportedly been having a flagrant affair with her married co-star during the filming of her latest movie in Romania. “Oh, Andi, don’t look so appalled. I know it’s all garbage. Besides, I don’t see you with that pony-tailed type of guy. Besides, he has way too many kids. How many have they collected by now? I can hardly imagine you as a stepmother.”

  Andrea almost spit out her wine. “Oh, God, I never thought about that!”

  “Andrea Howard! Is it true?”

  Andrea waved the story off. “Barely. Yes, I’m sleeping with him, but Lord knows I have no intention of continuing anything after we wrap. In fact, that’s part of the reason for my little visit here. He was getting so clingy -- waiting for me in my trailer, meeting me at the craft service table -- it was starting to freak me out. He was even leaving me little notes all around the set.”

  Victoria laughed. She had never met a more commitment-phobic woman than Andi. Andrea gave George Clooney a run for his money in that department. “So you flew halfway around the world to hide out with your favorite down-on-her-luck friend?”

  “No, just my favorite friend. I’ve been worried about you and it gave me a good excuse to get out of Dodge. I have to be back in Romania on Tuesday - the insurance company won’t cover me for any longer. My agent is ballistic, but I don’t care. What if I were sick?” Victoria loved Andrea’s logic, or rather her lack of it. There was a reason she was such an icon - she really was one of the most charming people on earth. “I’m tired of talking about me. Let’s talk about you. Is it as bad as it looks?”

  “It depends. Financially, it’s a disaster. Trip’s MIA and I’m working for minimum wage.” She didn’t want to go into the details of her job with Andrea. She wasn’t embarrassed, but she didn’t feel a need to get into it. Especially with one of the world’s biggest movie stars, lounging across from her in a custom-made Zac Posen dress and Jean Paul Gaultier shoes. Victoria got a little lump in her throat when she first saw them.

  “Victoria, you have to let me help you out. I don’t care how much you need. I wouldn’t even miss it,” Andrea said. Victoria knew this was true, as Andrea reportedly was being paid $15 million for the movie she from which had just called in sick.

  Victoria shook her head. “I can’t. Besides, the FBI would probably confiscate it as soon as you gave it to me. It’s not that bad. Really. No one is more surprised than me.”

  Andrea sat up in her chair, and Victoria recognized that look when she got one of her ‘brilliant ideas’. “Stay in my apartment in Tribeca! I won’t be back for months, and even if I was, I’d love to have you.”

  “I can’t go back. Not now, not like this.” Victoria ran her finger around the rim of her glass and looked up at Andrea. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll never go back.”

  “Oh, don’t say that! I’d miss you too much,” Andrea said. Victoria laughed. Andrea probably spent all of 20 days a year in New York. Even when she wasn’t on location, she hopped around the globe like a ping pong ball. She couldn’t even commit to a place.

  “I have to say, life in Tenaqua isn’t as bad as you’d think. The kids love their new school. Parker is even trying out for a baseball team, can you believe it? Posey’s in a play. I’m turning into a regular June Cleaver.”

  “Except that in your case Ward’s on the run...”

  “Okay, maybe more like Marge Simpson.”

  “Ha! I love the idea of Trip as Homer.”

  “Homer is probably smarter,” Victoria said.

  “And better looking,” Andrea said. “Ouch! I didn’t mean that.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m over him. Running out on a girl can take the fire out of a relationship that was already running on fumes. I’m filing for divorce.”

  “Can you do that, without a body?”

  “Who knows? I’m in such unchartered territory. I need to get it started though. For my sanity, not to mention my lawyer thinks it’s a good idea.”

  Andrea leaned over the table to tease Victoria. “Got another guy already?”

  “No!” Victoria said, with perhaps too vehement of a denial, which Andrea pounced on.

  “Who is he?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Nobody always means somebody. I should know,” Andrea said. “Who is he? I’m not going to let you off the hook until you spill. I promise I won’t say a word.”

  “Okay, you got me. The guy sitting at the bar,” she said, indicating Mike, who she had noticed took up residence shortly after they had sat down. He was reading a beaten-up paperback novel, and had a cup of coffee sitting on the polished bar. He didn’t look up at them.

  “Funny,” Andrea said. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The next morning, Andrea insisted on sending the happy crew back home in the pink Hummer, much to Victoria’s dismay. Somehow hopping in a hideous pink limousine yesterday seemed like a glamourous adventure, today it felt downright tacky. Of course, Andrea’s car was long, sleek and black and the Barbiemobile, parked next to Andrea’s car, was a sore reminder that Victoria was not in a position anymore to be the one in the driver’s seat.

  It took a crew of six porters to get all of Andrea’s luggage down and into the car. She was never one to travel light, even when they first met. One day years ago Victoria was rummaging though Andrea’s purse, most likely looking for a cigarette, and she found a roll of toilet paper.

  “What the hell are you doing with this?” Victoria asked, holding up the roll that was now tattered and spotted with loose tobacco.

  “You never know when you’re going to need it,” Andrea replied. It made perfect sense to her. Victoria used to call it Andi-logic.

  “If you decide to take me up on my apartment, just call Domenica and she’ll have it ready for you in no time,” Andrea said as she perched the giant Chanel sunglasses on her prominent nose. She held out her arms and bent down to get kisses from the kids.

  “Thanks, but you’ve already done enough.” Victoria hugged Andrea quickly. She had noticed three women who had stopped on the sidewalk when they recognized Andrea, and wanted to get her into her car without having to chat up the oversized housewives from Oklahoma. Victoria appreciated the access and VIP treatment Andrea’s celebrity brought, but could never have lived with the constant invasion of privacy.

  The limo took them up the lakeshore, which sparkled on this beautiful morning. Watching the runners and bikers going up and down the lake path, Victoria felt her hangover growing with each mile. She was out of practice, and Andrea could throw back a bottle of wine before dinner. And yet, she couldn’t remember a single time she had seen Andrea truly drunk. By the time they had reached Tenaqua, Parker and Posey had tired of the limo too. They were eager to get home to their friends and their house. Victoria was surprised. She thought it would be harder for all of them to go back to life in their makeshift world.

  ###

  “Thank God for Andrea,” Barbara said when Victoria walked through the door, laden with shopping bags and the gifts for Parker and Posey.

  “She went overboard. Where is Posey going to wear a $600 Jacquadi dress?”

  “No, I mean your hair! You look like you again!”


  “Thanks mother.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything, but let’s just say red is not your color.”

  Victoria started sorting through the bags. “So much of this stuff is just impractical. I’m half tempted to return it for something they can wear. Too bad Neiman’s doesn’t have a sporting goods department.”

  “Why Vicki, you’re beginning to sound downright sensible.”

  “You know how to kill a moment, mother.”

  Barbara didn’t pay attention to Victoria as she went to pick up the ringing phone.

  “Why yes, she’s right here,” Barbara said as she motioned to Victoria to come to the phone. Of course her mother’s tethered phone couldn’t come to her.

  “It’s a woman,” Barbara mouthed. No caller ID necessary with Barbara Brewster in the house. “I think it’s the mother of Posey’s little friend.”

  Victoria ignored her mother and took the call. She turned her back to her mother, which was the best she could do for privacy in her mother’s house.

  “Victoria? Hi, this is Kathy Berner, Claire’s mom,” the woman on the other end of the phone said. Why was it that women insisted on labeling themselves as someone’s mother? No self-respecting would call another man and say: “Hi, this is Chuck, Billy’s dad.”

  “Hi Kathy,” Victoria wasn’t great on the phone to begin with, and trying to adopt a cheerful suburban mom cadence proved to be both difficult and unattractive. Perky was not her style.

  “I know this is last minute. The Kindergarten mothers are having a “Boo-Hoo/Yahoo” party to celebrate their last kids graduating from Kindergarten, and thought it would be fun if you could make it. Posey is your youngest, isn’t she?” Hell yes! Couldn’t even imagine having a toddler at home. Just the thought of it gave Victoria a chill. “It should be fun, and would be a great chance for you to meet some new people.” Quick, Victoria, come up with a great refusal. It sounded dreadful. “It starts about 6:30. No dinner, just heavy appetizers and wine,” Kathy continued. “I have to drive carpool, so you don’t mind meeting me there, do you? It’s at Susan DeMarco’s house on Shady Oak Drive. Her address is in the school directory.” Victoria could hear the sharp sound of breaking glass and subsequent child cries in the background. “Oh, Shit! I’ve got to go. See you there!” Kathy hung up the phone without giving Victoria a chance to back out.

  “See you there,” Victoria said to the dead phone in her hand.

  ###

  “Thanks Bud,” Victoria said as she got out of her stepfather’s beige Buick. She stood in front of a massive stone house that looked like it was trying to imitate a British Castle, complete with stained glass windows and a turret. There was even a family crest mounted on the antique-looking front door. The newly planted saplings around the house, coupled with a barrage of cheerful geraniums easily betrayed the pretense, as did the colorful yet sprawling play structure standing in the middle of the semicircle driveway. For some reason it made Victoria think of a Habitrail.

  Standing on the doorstep of Susan DeMarco’s house, Victoria felt like she was back in 10th grade. It was bad enough that Bud had to drop her off, but when she got to the house, she had butterflies in her stomach. She realized at that moment that the FBI didn’t just confiscate her possessions, they took her confidence as well. Screw them, she thought. I can do this. She rang the doorbell and immediately had second thoughts.

  “Victoria!” She was surprised to see Kathy open the door as if she had been waiting on the other side. Too late for Victoria to run. “So glad you were able to make it. Come on in.”

  Susan’s foyer was immense, complete with a grand round table that held a tall vase filled with a striking floral arrangement. Victoria couldn’t help herself, and reached out to touch the flowers to see if they were real. They were. There was a graceful curved staircase with an intricate wrought-iron railing that led up to the upstairs hallway. Victoria looked up and saw that on the domed ceiling of the foyer there was a replica of one of the panels on the Sistine Chapel. The Creation of the Moon and the Stars, complete with bare bottoms and cherubs.

  Two Bernese Mountain dogs ran to the door to greet Victoria, promptly nuzzling their noses into her crotch. Horrified, Victoria tried to push them away. Kathy didn’t even notice, and walked Victoria past a series of anterooms, each decorated within an inch of its life. There was so much velvet and brocade, Victoria was sure that Cher must have been her interior designer. They entered the kitchen at the end of the hallway, and Victoria had to stop to take a breath.

  The kitchen itself was basic - as far as over-the-top over-designed kitchens go. Dark wood cabinets with reliefs featuring grapes and hummingbirds of all things, wide expanses of granite countertops and the now-expected gothic chandeliers hung side-by-side over the lengthy kitchen island. No, it wasn’t the kitchen itself. It was all the women in the kitchen. Wall-to-wall women. The deafening noise all those women created stunned Victoria. It was like the hum of the cicadas that descended on Tenaqua every 17 years. Kathy had to yell to be heard over the din.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Jesus, yes, Victoria thought. She spied a half dozen bottles of white wine on the counter, with names she did not recognize. Toasted Head, Charles Shaw, Smoking Loon, Yellowtail. Nothing she had in her cellar. At this point, she didn’t care.

  “I’d love a glass of wine,” Victoria yelled back. Make it a double.

  Kathy grabbed a bottle off the counter, condensation running down the sides of the bottle. Someone had pulled the cork through the capsule, resulting in a jagged edge popping up from the top of the bottle. Victoria cringed. She took the glass, which was indeed filled to the brim, and took a sip. She immediately spit it out.

  “Oh, gosh, is something wrong?” Kathy asked.

  “No, no. It just went down the wrong way.” She took another sip, it was worse than the first. “I guess I’m more of a martini girl,” she yelled back at Kathy.

  “Martini? What a good idea!” A short, voluptuous woman in her late 30s, approached them, an empty glass of wine in one hand. “Vodka or gin?”

  It was clear that Victoria looked a little overwhelmed, so Kathy jumped in. “Vodka! Susan, this is my friend Victoria Vernon. Victoria, meet Susan DeMarco, one of the bet hostesses in town.”

  “And bartenders,” Susan corrected. Victoria watched as her hostess adeptly gathered the necessary items to shake her drink of choice. “Olive or twist?”

  Victoria liked this woman who got straight down to business. She could even overlook her hideous decorating if the drink tasted half as good as promised. “Olive. Two if you have them.”

  “That’s what I call dinner!” Susan laughed as she shook the martini shaker with a vigor that managed to silence half of the women around them. She poured the drink into a ridiculous-looking martini glass that had a zig zag stem with a blue-green foot.

  Victoria took the drink and sipped. Heaven. Pure, ice-cold, tongue-numbing heaven. So good, she wished she had only asked for one olive. “Susan, you may be my new best friend in town,” Victoria said as she took another sip.

  “Hey, don’t ditch the date that brought you. Or at least met you here! Susan, shake one for me!” Kathy handed the designated bartender an empty glass, and Susan quickly got to business. A group of women had joined them at the island. Victoria took a moment to survey the assembled crowd.

  She had to admit, she was surprised. She thought the women in Tenaqua would be clad in holiday sweaters, penny loafers and were hiding pageboy haircuts under those baseball caps. These women looked good. Damn good. And hard to admit, they all looked a hell of a lot younger than her. The woman who was helping Susan find another bottle of vodka was wearing an adorable Kevan Hall sundress. She and Andrea had been ogling it during their shopping trip downtown. Another woman expertly zipped lemon peels, not getting a drop on her shirt - one that Victoria could swear was Prada that so far she had only seen in a magazine.

  Holy shit, she thought, we’re not in Kansas anymore.
Not even close. Perhaps she had been hasty in rejecting the denizens of Tenaqua. By day they may look like they’re gym rats, but at night they do clean up nicely. The group of women was having a blast shaking the martinis, and Victoria found herself having fun. Kathy stood next to Victoria, raised her glass and toasted Victoria.

  “Boo Hoo!” Kathy yelled.

  “Yahoo!” Victoria shouted back.

  ###

  “Kathy Berner! How are you!” The voice cut through the crowd as everyone stopped to see who had just walked in the door. Victoria turned to see one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, and she had seen quite a few in her day. Victoria instantly realized that this was one beautiful woman Victoria had seen before.

  “Foxy!” Kathy enthusiastically embraced her friend then turned to introduce her to Victoria. “Foxy Nolan, do you know Victoria Vernon?”

  Yes, Victoria thought. I’d know Foxy Buchanan anywhere. Anyone who went to New Trier High school in the past fifty years knew who Foxy Buchanan was. Kissed by the gods at a young age, Foxy was the golden-haired girl that skated through life, with other people knocking themselves down to help her do it. She obviously traveled in different circles than Foxy throughout high school (not that Victoria had a circle) and their only interaction had been in AP Biology senior year. Never at a loss for study partners, Foxy was the star of the class. Even Mr. Wiley did everything he could do coax a smile out of that perfect face, including doling out generous As.

  During high school, Victoria would watch Foxy cruise through town in her red Jeep Wrangler, top down, music blaring. There were usually three or four girls in tow - once in a while there was a guy in the front seat. Just never the same guy twice.

  Victoria had, on more than one occasion, daydreamed about Foxy’s jeep careening down a ravine, tragically cutting short her extraordinary life. She instantly had felt guilty about it, and subsequently amended all future daydreams to only leave Foxy severely maimed.